Perfect art

A perfect murder is a murder that leaves no evidence.

Because what happens in the darkroom is art, the resulting prints are evidence of that art.

Last night in the darkroom was perfect art, as in:  It was art that left no evidence.  Not one acceptable print  :(  As a result, I'm tired (from staying up all night) and grumpy (because I've got nothing to show for it).

And yet I must keep the reading log, and even write the Step paper afterwards (and do a bunch of other things on top of that) before I sleep tonight, because tomorrow is Thursday  :(

Let me get the reading log done quickly:
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8:41 p.m.  Language reset song:  "Always True To You, Darling (In My Fashion)" on YouTube.

8:48 p.m.  The ninth chapter is 17 pages long  :(  I'm having a very bad day!

8:56 p.m.  I wonder why Stapleton asks for exactly three months.  That must have a reason (unlike the facts that yesterday's letter was written on a Sunday---and today's letter on Tuesday, October 15, 1889---apparently for no good reason).

9 p.m.  Beautiful metaphor:  ""It is something to have touched bottom anywhere in this bog in which we are floundering."

9:02 p.m.  Another one:  "And now I pass on to another thread which I have extricated out of the tangled skein ..."

9:05 p.m.  I can't help thinking how it was rather unkind (to me) of Conan Doyle that he decided to write both the love story as well as Selden's story in the same chapter.  That's what made the chapter so long  :(

9:13 p.m.  "... a thin rain began to fall."  Wie lange habe ich das nicht mehr gesehen!  :)

9:20 p.m.  'Phone call.

9:36 p.m.  Any interruptions really ruin my reading experience  :(  I'll go smoke before I start again.

9:52 p.m.  Resuming reading now.  Only two pages left, though  :)

9:57 p.m.  Done.  So much is still left to do before tomorrow's classes!  :(